


Apéritif

by 1863



Category: Castlevania (Cartoon)
Genre: Blood Drinking, Extra Treat, M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-21
Updated: 2019-02-21
Packaged: 2019-10-23 21:23:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17691317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1863/pseuds/1863
Summary: “Didn’t you hear me, you idiot?” Alucard glares at Trevor over the collar of his cloak, pulled up high to cover his mouth. “If I start I may not be able to stop.”





	Apéritif

**Author's Note:**

  * For [chicago_ruth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chicago_ruth/gifts).



“Go on then.”

Trevor’s voice is flippant, not concerned in the least, and just as steady as his proffered arm. 

Alucard scowls.

“Fuck off.”

“Oh I would, believe me,” Trevor replies, “except that Sypha would kill me for leaving you. And then she’d kill you for making me leave in the first place.” 

Alucard manages a weak huff of laughter. “Sypha wouldn’t kill us.”

“Well, no,” Trevor agrees. “Probably not. But she could still do some damage. Freeze our fingers off, or set fire to our bollocks. And I quite like my bollocks as they are, thank you, so—” 

He shoves his wrist at Alucard’s face again. 

“Fuck _off_ ,” Alucard repeats, more viciously this time, turning away with such force that he practically recoils, pressing himself back against the wall so hard it’s as though he’s trying to crawl right through it.

Withdrawing, Trevor notes. Not arguing or pushing him away or fighting back like he usually would, but—retreating, instead. 

Damn, Trevor thinks. It must be even worse than he’d thought. 

“How long has it been?” 

There’s no answer aside from Alucard’s laboured breathing.

Trevor sighs, as much from irritation as anything else. 

“Why the hell did you go so long without feeding?” he demands. “I know you don’t have to kill anyone to do it, I’ve seen you do it before. Hell, half the time the other person looks like they even kind of _enjoy_ it—” 

Trevor cuts himself off when Alucard suddenly lifts his head and looks right at him. Alucard’s eerily pale eyes are as sharp as ever beneath the haze of hunger—or perhaps they’re even sharper because of it. Trevor wonders what he can see, whether that small accidental-on-purpose slip of the tongue was enough for Alucard to finally say something. Alucard is silent, however, and just… watches. Like he always does. Trevor feels another wash of irritation and conveniently doesn't acknowledge that he's never directly brought it up, either. 

Instead he asks, again, “Why did you wait?” 

Alucard looks away and mutters something into his cloak.

“What was that?”

“I said,” Alucard replies, louder this time, “I didn’t think you and Sypha would be gone for so long.” 

Trevor frowns. “And?”

“And I didn’t want to—without you here I wasn’t sure I could—” Alucard stops. “And then it was too late to try.”

It takes a little while before Trevor is able to fill in the blanks. 

“Too late to try,” he repeats. “Too… dangerous, to try?” 

“Yes.”

Trevor rolls his eyes.

“God, you vampires are all so bloody dramatic.” He holds out his arm again. “Just fucking do it already.”

“Didn’t you hear me, you idiot?” Alucard glares at him over the collar of his cloak, pulled up high to cover his mouth. “If I start I may not be able to stop.”

“Yes, but _I_ can stop _you_ ,” Trevor snaps.

“You wish.”

“I could stop you even if you weren’t half-starved. Easily.”

“Oh, please,” Alucard scoffs. “You couldn’t even—” He cuts off with a sudden gasp of pain, face twisting as he curls in on himself. “Fuck,” he whispers weakly, when the spasm finally passes.

“All right, that’s it.”

Trevor sits beside him and yanks the cloak out of the way. 

“No—”

“Yes, and that’s the end of it.” Trevor presses his wrist against Alucard’s mouth. “Drink.”

“ _No_ —” Alucard tries to push him away but the shove is so shockingly weak that Trevor actually freezes. 

“Fucking hell,” he whispers. “Are you _dying_?”

Alucard doesn’t answer.

Trevor takes a steadying breath. No use yelling at a dying man, he tells himself. Even if the bastard deserved it for being so bloody stupid.

“Look,” he says. “I’ve got your sword right here, and the morning star too. See?” Trevor lifts up both weapons so Alucard can see them. “You start getting a little too greedy and I promise you, I'll use them.”

Alucard stares at him with narrowed, feverish eyes. Eventually, he nods. 

“That I _can_ believe.”

“Halle-fucking-lujah.”

He lifts his wrist again, offering, and Alucard reluctantly pulls him forward, long fingers curling around his forearm. 

“Well?” he asks, when Alucard just stares at his wrist, at the blue-grey veins that spiderweb across the pale skin of his inner arm. 

“The sword,” Alucard says with apparent effort, keeping very still. 

“What about it?”

“Put it against my neck.”

“For fuck’s sake—”

“Trevor.” Alucard lifts his gaze and looks him in the eye. “Please.” 

It's a rare day when Alucard isn't baiting him, goading him into losing his temper, but this—Alucard actually asking for something, openly showing a weakness—that's even rarer still. For once Trevor doesn't push it, just lifts the blade and does what he's asked, the morning star close enough to grab too, should he need to use it. 

A flicker of relief passes over Alucard’s face when the cool edge of steel touches the back of his neck.

“Thank you,” he says. 

“Yeah yeah, you’re welcome.” Trevor shifts, trying to find a more comfortable position. “Hurry up, would you? If you still look this bad when Sypha gets here, we’ll both be in the shit.” 

Alucard ignores him, slowly bending his head and—shaking, Trevor realises with a flicker of surprise. He was actually _shaking_.

“This may... sting,” Alucard says. His voice is mild but he's still visibly trembling with the effort of staying in control. Trevor feels the words breathed out against his own skin, a warm damp contrast to the chilly air that surrounds them. 

“I’m sure I can take it,” Trevor replies, keeping his voice light. “Or have you forgotten how much I've taken before? Both of us, even.”

Alucard looks up, through his lashes, eyes glinting in the afternoon light. 

“No,” he says quietly. “I haven’t forgotten.”

Trevor clears his throat and has the grace to look a little ashamed. 

“Right. I don’t suppose you would have.”

There’s a beat of silence as they both get momentarily lost in thoughts of the past. Then Alucard holds out one hand, deliberately letting Trevor see his fingernails lengthening into claws, the tips every bit as sharp as the blade he’s still got pressed against Alucard’s neck.

“Go on then,” Trevor says again, and this time, Alucard does.

The blood wells up immediately, Alucard’s nails so sharp that Trevor barely feels them slicing through his own skin. Skin, and flesh, and veins. Deep, too, considering how much blood is coming up. But then Alucard moves, almost too fast for Trevor to see, mouth latching onto Trevor’s wrist with a small, hungry gasp. 

It’s the strangest sensation, an ache that’s not quite pain; a rush that’s not quite pleasure. On the surface, it’s pretty much what he expected—Alucard’s lips against his skin, Alucard’s fingers tight around his wrist. But it’s more than that, _more_ —it’s the steady rhythmic tug from somewhere deep, deep inside, as Alucard sucks his blood out; it’s the slow, deliberate scrape of Alucard’s tongue as he cleans up stray drops of blood. And it’s the sound of it too, of Alucard swallowing, again and again, mouthful after mouthful; it’s the sudden soft moan from the back of his own throat—

Alucard looks up at the sound, eyes going dark with more than simple bloodlust. Trevor swallows thickly. He knows that Alucard won’t lose control, whatever Alucard himself believed; Trevor knows he’d rather starve to death than risk that. Hell, he practically already had. But there’s still danger in that golden gaze, a hunger for something that went deeper than blood, and when Alucard pulls back and licks Trevor’s blood off his lips, Trevor can’t help the flush that floods his cheeks nor his sharp, sudden intake of breath. 

Alucard tilts his head, considering. Trevor can practically hear him weighing up the risks; the pros and the cons, the advantages and disadvantages. He knows that Alucard has noticed it, that he probably smelled the perverse curiosity on him before Trevor even realised it himself, regardless of whether they openly acknowledged it. But mutual understanding, unspoken or not, didn’t mean they were similar people—and not just because one of them wasn’t entirely human. 

Nothing Alucard does is impulsive. He would never just take because he wanted, even if he knows he's welcome to it. 

But just when Trevor thinks he should make some glib remark, just cut his losses and go wait for Sypha alone, inside the house—

Alucard lifts one hand to the back of his own neck, checking that Trevor still has the sword in place and ready. 

And then Alucard smiles. 

“Trevor,” he admonishes. His voice is soft and faintly amused but, Trevor notices, a little rough around the edges too. “Were you waiting for me to say it first?”

Trevor has to swallow before he can reply, throat gone unexpectedly dry at the abrupt change in Alucard's demeanour. 

“Say what?” he asks eventually, belligerent as ever despite knowing that Alucard will see right through it.

Alucard’s smile widens.

“That you wanted things to be more... _interesting_.”

“What do you—”

And Alucard is suddenly much, much closer, in his personal space, pushing him until he feels the wall at his back. He still has the sword on Alucard’s neck and Alucard himself is nowhere near full strength yet—Trevor could easily shove him away if he wanted to. 

_If_ being the operative word. 

Trevor has done a lot of stupid things in his life, put himself in dangerous situations for things as important as saving the whole damn world and as petty as being a little bored. The contexts might change but one thing is always the same: if he wants something badly enough, nothing will make him back down. Nothing. 

Trevor looks up and meets Alucard’s eyes, pitches his voice low. 

“What did you have in mind?” 

Alucard laughs quietly. 

“Is that a yes?”

Trevor can think of a dozen clearer—if cruder—ways to phrase it, but all he does is nod.

“Say it,” Alucard insists. He moves a little closer, one clawed hand landing on Trevor's chest before slowly, slowly creeping upward. “I want you to say it.”

“You want my permission, hmm? To take this?”

Trevor tilts his head back, offering a better glimpse of his neck. Alucard narrows his eyes. 

“Tease,” he mutters. 

Trevor smirks. “What did you expect?” 

Alucard answers by taking what's been offered, teasingly or no. His hand slides up again, so slowly that Trevor barely notices it moving until he's suddenly aware of Alucard’s warm fingers wrapping around his throat, forcing him to tilt his head even further back.

Then Alucard leans forward, closer and closer, bloodied lips parted and gilded eyes focused on Trevor's mouth. Trevor is distantly surprised that Alucard would allow such an intimacy at all, let alone share it with him—but then Alucard stops, just shy of Trevor's lips. 

“Say it,” Alucard repeats. 

His voice is softer than Trevor's ever heard it but it's somehow even more commanding like this, more powerful. Or—no, not commanding, exactly. More like—compelling. Enticing. Making it sound like giving in would be the easiest, most delicious thing in all the world. 

Trevor feels one of Alucard’s nails scrape along the length of his throat. They're still elongated, still dagger-sharp, but Alucard applies barely any pressure at all; it’s a tickle, a scratch, a tiny frustrating tease of his own. Trevor shivers, unable to help himself, and Alucard smiles again, fangs catching the fading sunlight. 

He slowly presses a nail in harder, just deep enough to draw a single drop of blood. Trevor bites his lip to keep from making a humiliating noise but Alucard moves even closer, crowding him against the wall. His other hand comes up, cupping Trevor's jaw, before he sweeps his thumb over Trevor's tense lower lip. His hands are _so_ warm. And his mouth is so close—

Alucard ducks his head, delicately licking the bead of blood away, and the reaction is as immediate as it is intense. Only the very tip of Alucard’s tongue touches Trevor's skin but it still rips a moan from him, still makes his eyes shut tight against the sudden onslaught of sensation. It's not like when Alucard was feeding from his wrist, it's not like that at _all_ —it's like he's being licked from the inside out, all over and all at once, licked and— _caressed._ Alucard scrapes his teeth over Trevor's pulse point and this too Trevor feels everywhere, on his skin and in his bones, every nerve lighting up at once and if this is what it feels like from one tiny lick and the bare edge of blunt teeth, Alucard actually feeding from his neck would be—

“Yes,” Trevor says hoarsely. Alucard stills. “Yes, do it, feed on me. Like—” He swallows. “Like this.”

Trevor feels Alucard smile against his skin, sharpened claws scratching lightly against the back of his neck. And then—

Fangs sink into the soft flesh just below his jaw, right where Trevor can feel his own pulse hammering, racing—pumping his blood right into Alucard’s waiting mouth. 

It's like when Alucard licked the lone drop of blood away but ten, twenty, a _hundred_ times more intense. Trevor shudders, hard, his senses suddenly magnified—able to feel every tiny movement of Alucard's mouth on his neck with excruciating, exquisite clarity: every brush of lips, every graze of teeth, every soft wet flick of his tongue. But more than that, it's how it feels _inside_ —like he’s being scraped red and raw but in the best, _best_ possible way; like being held right on the edge of coming until you think you’re going mad. 

“Fuck,” Trevor moans, already close and not even caring. “God, _Alucard—_ ”

His hands tighten around the weapons he’s holding and the sword slips a little, pressing a shallow cut into the back of Alucard’s neck. Alucard hisses but then sucks even harder and Trevor’s hips start moving of their own accord, because he can feel Alucard everywhere, _everywhere_ —the mouth on his neck is as good as a mouth on his cock, the tongue at his throat as good as a tongue licking him open. It’s almost unbearable, sensations coming in from all sides, relentless, every single one of them so intense they almost hurt, and Trevor is only vaguely aware that the desperate stream of swearing he can hear is his own ragged voice, panting _yes_ and _more_ and _fuck_ and _please_. 

And just when he thinks he’s almost there, when his nerves are pulled taut and just one more second will push him over the edge and bring him release—

Alucard pulls away and lets him go. 

“What,” Trevor gasps, dazed. 

His voice is so rough it's almost embarrassing but he doesn't really care—the only thing occupying his attention is the fact that Alucard has stopped, and that's a fucking travesty. 

“Hmm,” Alucard says. He licks his lips and Trevor bites the inside of his cheek to keep from moaning. “Dining on a Belmont. The hunter willingly giving up his blood to the hunted. Sypha ought to add this to the Speakers’ stories; surely it's something worth noting for posterity.”

Trevor stares at him. He's better now, that much is clear. His eyes have lost the slightly glazed look they had before, and now that he’s standing it’s obvious that his strength has returned. Even his skin seems brighter and clearer.

 _I did that,_ Trevor thinks. _Whatever Alucard says, I did that to him._

“Your gratitude overwhelms me,” Trevor replies after a beat, and looks pointedly at the bulge in his trousers. 

Alucard's gaze suddenly sharpens, all his considerable focus zeroing in on Trevor and Trevor alone. 

“You taste good,” Alucard says. His voice is whisper-quiet and very, very intent. 

Trevor swallows. He doesn't miss the way Alucard's eyes track the movement of his throat. 

“Why not have seconds, then?” 

Alucard just keeps staring at him, the same intense, unreadable expression on his face, before the sound of a horse and carriage rattling in the distance breaks the heavy silence. Alucard's face relaxes back into its usual expression whenever he looks at Trevor—a little distant, a little amused, a little irritated. 

“I’d still be on my first helping if I hadn’t heard Sypha close by,” he says. “And whatever the two of you get up to when you’re on the road together, I’m not sure she deserves being welcomed home with the sight of your… happy ending.”

“You know, Alucard,” Trevor says, looking up at him from where he’s still splayed out on the ground, back against the wall, “for a vampire, you really are a prude.”

Alucard smiles. He crouches down and reaches out, palm barely skimming over Trevor’s crotch. The claws are gone but the heat of his skin is still so intense that it takes all of Trevor’s self-control to keep from pushing up into his hand.

“Hmm.” Alucard looks thoughtful. “It seems that Sypha’s not the only one who can set fire to your bollocks.”

“ _Alucard_ ,” Trevor grits out. 

But Alucard just laughs and stands up again. 

“Get inside, Trevor. I won’t leave you unfinished, don’t worry.” 

He offers Trevor a hand, and when Trevor takes it Alucard pulls him up as if he weighed nothing at all. But before Trevor can get his balance Alucard tugs him closer, forcing Trevor to clutch at his shoulders or else fall down again.

“Besides,” Alucard whispers into his ear, mouth so close that Trevor can feel the brush of his lips, “I’m not finished either.”

Then he abruptly turns and heads back to the house.

“You’re a bastard, Alucard, you know that?” Trevor yells after him.

Alucard doesn’t dignify that with a reply nor even a backward glance, but he does give Trevor the finger. 

Trevor grins despite himself, then starts jogging up the path to catch up with him. Sypha’s carriage is getting closer by the second and although he’d never admit it out loud, Alucard was right—the sight of Trevor coming like a fountain was not the welcome home Sypha deserved. 

Besides, Trevor thinks, eyeing the lithe, sleek lines of Alucard’s body up ahead, the faster they get done, the sooner they can do it again. 


End file.
